Fate: Salvage Conviction
by Elhini Prime
Summary: They have failed. Rin, Shirou, Saber, Archer...all have failed to stop Gilgamesh unleashing the Grail on Fuyuki. As the Grail grows in power, consuming the wishes of those around it, its devastation grows and will cover the Earth if not stopped. However, it seems that fate has other plans. The Fifth Holy Grail War is over. The Sixth, however, is only just beginning.
1. Prologue: The End of the Beginning

**Welcome everyone to the 100th story done on this site! This one is a collaboration between me and 30CaliberDonut, a good friend of mine (and the creator a few Chosens as well :) ) we've been friends for three years and I honestly wish that we could have done this sooner. Unfortunately school and work and life in general have kept us from doing collabs before. Same is true this time, but I wanted to go ahead and put this out. This story is of a fandom I have _not_ done a story in (the crossover from League doesn't count because it's not a pure story). But it is my _favorite_ anime...not just saying because I'm a big King Arthur nut lol. Most of you know I'm notorious for my short first chapter and longer later chapters, so this first chapter is just purely me. 30Caliber and I are working on the second chapter and are almost finished with it...this just gives a bit of set up.**

Prologue

The End of the Beginning

Her blade blazed brightly, shining with the light of a thousand souls, of the hope of soldiers past and present. The azure hilt was warm, abnormally so through her gloves as she saw Rin staggering with Shinji on her back through the muck and sludge left by the aberration. Archer had created a path…but Rin was weary, the Grail had drained her strength as those rancid, pale arms still tried to grab at her.

She shook her head, renewing her grip and fighting to keep the blade down as Rin nearly made it to the shore. Rin took another step, but sank calf deep in the sludge with a cry. Something pale flashed and one of the Grail's 'hands' grabbed Rin by the hair and started to drag her backwards.

Saber dashed forwards, her golden blade flashing as she slashed through the appendage, leveling her sword as she glared at the Grail. She was not going to allow Rin, Shinji or Shirou die, not while she still had physical form.

"SABER!" Rin shrieked, "I told you to stay there!"

"You used all your Command Seals, Rin," Saber stated calmly, "You are my Master, my blade is yours and I am _not_ letting it get you,"

"Saber…" Rin blinked.

"Get up and _go_ ," Saber growled, her emerald eyes glinting green and gold with the reflection of her sword.

Rin struggled to her feet and Saber set hers.

"You remember me," Saber hissed, hacking at an arm that reached for Rin, "You remember I tried to destroy you ten years ago. I will succeed this time!"

Her blade glowed brightly as she raised her arms, pointing the brilliant tip to the night sky. The miracle she held in her hand blazed as if a star.

"Excali-!"

The Grail roared, violently shaking and throwing the sludge up into the air. Saber's green eyes widened as the slurry spattered over the divide created by Archer's arrow, landing on her arm.

"SABER!" Rin cried, stopping as Saber dropped her holy blade, her left hand steaming and sizzling as the liquid ate into her armor.

The King of Knights gasped, trying to get the burning liquid off her, but it would not leave. Her gasp became a pained cry as her left arm dissolved into a shower of golden light. Saber grabbed her sword and swung at the hand reaching for Rin. She had fought one handed before…even if she couldn't use her Noble Phantasm anymore.

"Saber! Look out!" Rin screeched.

Saber whirled around, eyes wild as a larger hand slammed into her, knocking her into the wall of the divide. She _howled_ as more of the sludge seeped through the soil, eating through her armor, her dress, her hair, her skin…ugly purple stains started appearing on Saber's form, eating through her fair skin.

She could not move the pain was so great, the night's stars multiplied and the edges of her vision turned black, tinged with the golden gleam of her own body breaking.

"Saber!" came Rin's scream, "NO!"

 _"Rin…"_ Saber thought, _"Forgive me…"_

Her vision faded, but not before she heard Rin's scream of terror again as something flashed towards her. She'd failed.

They all had failed.

 **Yes, yes, I know it's freaking short but this isn't a story about these guys. It's about the characters my friend and I have created and are going to have fun with. You'll actually meet the first of the two Masters I have control over next chapter! As well as her Servant...**

 **But yes, this basically went the route of Unlimited Blade Works (my personal favorite of the routes even though I'm excited to see Heaven's Feel coming soon!). Just...not perfectly. Instead of destroying the grail, it all went to Hell in a handbasket very quickly and resulted in at least three known deaths (yeah, not gonna lie, Rin and Shinji are _so_ dead). As to what happened to Shirou? Well...you're just going to have to see!**

 **We are NOT revealing Servants until they are summoned :) So you'll have to wait and see!**

 **I _will_ go back to writing Chosens...but I want to get the First Master and Servant out first because these are probably going to be my favorites...and we _all_ know what I tend to do to my favorites...**

 **Anyway, hope you liked it. If you did, please let me know!**

 **Qui vállë tóquetë, ván tecë (If no review comes from y'all; no story comes from me)**

 **Máriessë ar mára tecië**

 **Farewell and fair writing**

 **Elhini Prime signing off.**


	2. Chapter 1

**And here's the real chapter, the long one that I promised lol. Here we meet the first Master and her Servant! We've...also got a cameo in here too, can you spot it?**

Chapter I

 _A few months later_

 _"Reports are showing that the earthquake and molten substance flowing from Fuyuki have no sign of stopping,"_ the newscaster said, _"What was once a beautiful city is now a Hellscape contaminated by flame. We were only able to get pictures from afar and not close as the government has restricted access to the site. There is no telling how many lives have been lost in this tragedy,"_

Victoria, Tori, Hart watched the news with slight interest as she washed the dishes. That's all they had been talking about the past few months. The Fuyuki Disaster. Her heart ached for everyone there, but it was far too far for her to make a difference. After all, France was a whole continent away from Japan.

"Tori?" a weak voice asked, "everything ok?"

"Oui, Mama, everything's fine," Tori called back, "Just finishing up the dishes,"

"…Could you come here when you're done?"

The young woman gave a sad smile as she wiped the suds off her hands and walked farther into the recesses of the house, towards a room at the far end. She peeked around the doorframe and smiled as she saw a middle-aged woman lying in a bed.

"I'm sorry, Tori," her mother apologized, her face flaming red, "I…"

She bowed her head and Tori shook her head, putting her arm under her mother's back and lifting her up. Tori kept her face neutral, ignoring the foul reek that suddenly came over her.

"Fae!" Tori called, "Can you help me!"

The door across the hall opened and a young woman with reddish hair bolted out, her blue eyes worried as she came around the other side of Tori and her mother and helped get her mother out of the bed.

"Can you start the shower?" Tori asked.

Her little sister nodded, darting towards the bathroom and getting everything ready.

"I'm sorry…" her mother whispered.

"Don't worry about it, Mama," Tori told her, "You've taken care of us when we were sick…let us do the same,"

She gave her mother to Fae, who proceeded to prepare their mother for her shower. Tori, meanwhile, went to the room and started cleaning the mess and soiled was careful to avoid the various machines and wires that were strewn around the room. The 19 year old gave a sad smile, it was just a side-effect in keeping her mother alive.

Her mother had been diagnosed with a very aggressive cancer that had spread throughout her body. They'd given her weeks to live at first, but she'd somehow lived years…now, however, she was starting to lose ground and regress.

Tori placed the soiled sheets in the hamper and started remaking the bed. She had just finished making the bed…when something scarlet on her hand caught her eye. She frowned, had she cut herself somehow? She hadn't felt any pain.

She held up her hand, looking it over as the silver ring on her finger glinted, her frown deepening as she examined the marking upon her hand. A delicate swirling pattern, like a flame, flanked by what looked like two wings.

"Tori?" came her mother's weak voice from the door.

Tori turned around to face her mother, holding her marked hand. Her mother's gaze lasered in on the marked hand…and her pale face lost whatever color was in it.

"Mama?" Tori asked, coming closer, "What's wrong?"

Her mother grabbed her hand, holding it and examining the mark with wide, fearful blue eyes.

"Ce n'est pas possible," her mother babbled, "Un Maître? Non ... non, vous ne pouvez pas être ... vous n'êtes qu'un enfant ... non ... s'il vous plaît, bon Jésus, non ... Je ne veux pas survivre à l'un de mes enfants..."

"Mama!" Tori protested, "What is wrong? A Master? What are you talking about? Does this have something to do with your family? That War you said was going on in Fuyuki?"

Her mother looked away, shaking greatly.

"Oui," she whispered, holding her daughter's hand in a death grip and beginning to beg, "Victoria Jeanne Hart, promise me, promise me you will not do anything? That you will stay here? Please!"

"Mama…you're scaring me, please," Tori pleaded, "What is going on?"

"Our family, the Rommée clan are powerful mages within the Clocktower," her mother muttered, "I did not want to tell you because I wanted you to live a normal life, ma chérie,"

She shook as she traced the 'wing' mark.

"You were chosen as a Master in the Holy Grail War…"

"What is that?" Tori asked.

Her mother shook her head.

"I cannot tell you," her mother whispered, "Please, Tori…just…ignore the summons, stay here. No wish is worth your life,"

Tori frowned…but she did not push. At least…for now.

She did, however...think that she should at least find out what was going on.

* * *

Aristide Rommé knocked casually on his professor's door. He was called fairly frequently to her side; he had, after all, been one of her primary caretakers over the last two years, as her illness had gotten worse. He was worried, of course, but there did not seem to be any urgency to this particular visit; he wondered, with a fluttering heart, if this was to be one of their more… conjugal asides. He kept any semblance of excitement or concern off of his face, though, as her voice drifted through the door:

"Come in, Aristide."

He opened the door, slipped through, and closed it behind him, as she had often asked him to do.

"How are you, Professor?" he asked, though he hardly needed to; the dark bags under her eyes, the pale pallor to her skin, and the way she sat hunched in her chair told him that today had not been a good day. She had these, from time to time; they were becoming more frequent. He ground his teeth, but kept his expression neutral as she spoke.

"I'll live," she managed. There was still strength in her voice, strength that came no doubt from raw, incorruptible willpower. "Tell me, are you familiar with the name Victoria Hart?"

"Victo-" he began to repeat. "Oh! Tori, yeah. Yes, she's a relative, on my mother's side. A cousin. Why do you ask, though, I haven't seen her in… uh, it has to be twelve years."

"Well," she continued. "She is here. At the Clock Tower. She just used your name to get in… and then she vanished. We assume she is still somewhere here on campus, but we don't know where she is or what she is up to. This is… alarming, to say the least. I assumed you would want to spearhead the search."

Aristide wrinkled his nose, and stared at her oddly. "Why… why would she do this? I was brought to understand that she doesn't care anything for magic. I always thought it was a waste. Why would she be here now?"

"Aristide," she answered slowly. "What have we been preparing for?"

"Well, the Holy Grail War," he replied easily. "But-" he stopped as it dawned on him. "No. No way. You don't think-"

In spite of her crippling condition, Professor Illinaya Deliskrosis stood quickly, nearly knocking her chair down behind her. "It is not unheard of for people in mage families to find out about the Grail War and attempt to take part in it without training or understanding," she said harshly. "This was true of Caster's Master in the Fourth Grail War, and of Saber's Master in the Fifth. For your cousin's safety, as well as that of our wishes, we must find her." Her body seemed to fail her, and she slumped back into the chair behind her. Her chest heaved; a hacking cough erupted from her throat, splattering her desk with blood.

"Illinaya!" he barked, dashing towards her, but she stopped him with a raised hand. He froze, with one arm outstretched.

"Find her," Illinaya rasped, crimson dripping from her hands and chin. "I know you understand."

Aristide nodded, and sprinted out of the door.

* * *

Tori wandered around the campus. She felt almost bad for using Aristide's name...but she knew that they wouldn't have allowed her in any other way.

After about an hour of wandering around, and a few wrong turns that nearly got her in trouble, she finally found the library. The young woman's blue eyes sparkled in joy as she looked at the warm-tinted columns and tile...and the thousands upon thousands of books that spiraled all the way to the ceiling.

 _"Now...where to begin?"_ she thought as she hefted her backpack and strolled farther into the room.

It had taken nearly an hour before Tori found the books she was looking for. She hugged the dusty, leather-bound volumes to her chest as she searched for a place to sit and research. Finally, she found it...a small desk where she could set the books down and finally get to see what on God's good Earth she was supposed to do.

She sat the books on the desk and pulled out the chair, quietly sitting down and cracking open the first volume.

"The Holy Grail War," she read. "Established originally by three great families; the Tohsakas, the Makiris, and the Einzberns, the initial impetus for deploying the Holy Grail was to reach the Root of all magic and attain the Third True Magic, known as Heaven's Feel."

She gave a sigh as she glanced at her watch.

"As much as I'd love to read about the history...I don't have time…" she muttered, "I'm pretty sure they've told Aristide or someone that I'm here. I need to know what in the world I'm supposed to do...not the War's history."

Flipping a few pages in yielded more useful results, in a chapter entitled "The Holy Grail War: Theoretical Structure".

 _"Before the contest proper begins, the Grail will select seven mages. While the selection process is still largely theoretical, some patterns have emerged. The Grail is very likely to select participants from the area closest to its vessel, but it will prioritize those that have a greater will to possess it over anyone nearby. Therefore, the pool of mages that it can select from is limited only by the number of mages that exist in the world that are capable of participating and have a wish to be granted. The odds of being selected are still unclear._

 _The War is structured thusly: each mage, regardless of title or generation, is granted the title of Master. Each Master is granted a single Servant, provided that the Master has done the necessary preparation to summon one, the details of which are covered in Chapter Four. Servants are divided into seven classes; one of each of these classes is present in each War: Saber, Lancer, Archer, Rider, Caster, Assassin, and Berserker. Each of these classes has benefits and skills unique to it, and each interacts differently with other classes. Class, however, does not does not necessarily determine the outcome of Servant interaction; this is more likely determined by the identities of said Servants, the nature of their legends, and the power that the Master and Servant together can manifest."_

"So basically I get a random Servant out of a hat…" Tori muttered, "Ok...so what do I need to do? Chapter 4 right?"

Chapter 4 was quite a ways through the book. Having read through it some, Tori found that it was vastly different than most of the books that she had read until this point; for one, it seemed to be entirely handwritten and there was nothing so convenient as a table of contents. For another, the whole thing had been encrypted into some sort of rune system, though Tori had come prepared for that; her mother had taught her how to read the runes a long, long time ago.

Chapter 4 was deceptively simple. While it adamant about how each detail involved must be followed to the letter, it did not seem to contain a vast number of instructions. It detailed the incantation that would be delivered for each class, if attempting to summon a specific one. It specified that a relic would be needed, to connect the Master to his Servant. And it showed in detail how the magic circle was to be made, the proper time to enact the summoning, and what to expect up until an actual interaction with a Servant. Beyond that, the book's guess was likely as good as Tori's.

It was at this point that a low, nearby voice yanked her attention away.

"You may believe that you aren't in entirely over your head," the voice asserted calmly, but firmly. "But I believe that anyone that is also believes the same way."

Tori jumped, her heart leaping in her chest as she subconsciously hid her crimson marked hand from view. She couldn't have been caught now...not when she was so close!

"I'm sorry?" she asked, "I didn't think that in this country it was considered polite to interrupt a student when she was studying. But apparently things are different here than in France."

The man that had spoken was a striking one, indeed. A sculpted, angular face, a narrow set of piercing grey eyes, framed by a long mane of black, perfectly straight locks. His garb was rather ornate as well, even for those that had been wandering around the building. It was clear that he was someone fairly important.

"A student, you say," he repeated. His mouth barely moved, yet somehow his eyes glittered with internal mirth. "Very well, I shall call your bluff. What department are you with?"

Tori's mouth opened and closed as she frantically searched for a good excuse. She could find none. The young woman bowed her head, hoping her long blonde hair would hide her embarrassment.

"Would you believe me if I said I was just a transfer?" she asked hopefully, still not looking up.

Getting nothing but a slightly raised eyebrow, she gave a defeated sigh.

"I thought not…"

The man stood. He held himself with a poise and elegance she had only ever seen on TV, or in medieval paintings. Had she been told that he was some sort of nobility, she would have believed it.

"You are no student, here," he said, his voice assured. "But I know why you are here. I have read that very same book many times. Suffice it to say that I have been baptized in fire, as well." Whether it was a conscious action or not, he rubbed the top of his left hand, and he glanced down at the blood-red marks in the very same place on her own hand. "You're rather young to find yourself in the Holy Grail War, aren't you?"

"Does my age make a difference?" Tori asked, finally looking up, "The Grail chose me and I'm going to have to go through with it,"

She locked gazes with him and she tapped the book.

"Alright, you say you've read this book so many times, what do you suggest?"

"I suggest," he repeated, looking her square in the eye. "Shutting the book. Putting everything back where you found it. Running home, to be with your…" he eyed the ring on her finger. "Family," he finished. "To leave all of this behind you. The Holy Grail War is no trifling matter. You may believe that you have no choice, or that your pride is at stake, or that there is someone you must protect and the Holy Grail is the only way to do that. But there is always another way. When you commit yourself to the war, you…" he trailed off. His gaze remained on the silver ring; cared for, but worn, as though for generations.

His eyes flicked back into her own. "You tie yourself to a stake, and hope to survive the flames," he said at last. "The odds do not favor you. However… I know that look." At that moment, she could have sworn that he chuckled, but his mouth never moved, and his eyes never wavered. "I have seen it before."

He turned suddenly; his cape added a magnificent flair to his exit. "I wish you luck in the wars to come… Holy Maiden," he added, just a hint of cheekiness in his voice as he disappeared amongst the shelves.

Tori blinked rapidly, rubbing her thumb across the engravings on her ring, feeling its warmth.

" _What an odd man…"_ she thought as she watched him go.

She shook her head, taking one last, long look at the chapter before standing up and shutting the volume.

As much as she hated to leave...it wouldn't be a good idea to stay much longer than she had to.

Suddenly, a voice rang out.

"Tori?" came a call from the direction opposite from the way the man had left. "Tori." Aristide Rommé strode frantically across the room. "My word, it really is you." As he approached, he rubbed his hands together nervously. "I can't believe it, I haven't seen you in more than ten years. What are you doing here? Were you just talking to Lord El-Melloi? I didn't know you knew him," he added, his eyes darting between Tori's face and the shelves amongst which the odd man had vanished.

"...Lord?" Tori squeaked out, "I didn't realize...no, Aristide, I don't...I was just reading and he snuck up on me…"

She put her hands in her pockets before giving a smile.

"Sorry I used you to get in here...it's so beautiful here...I just wanted to see the inside,"

"This isn't the sort of place you just barge into, beautiful or not," he admonished, but his tone was light. "I'm surprised they even let you in here. How have you been?" he asked, taking her left hand and cupping it between his own fingers. "I can't believe… believe…"

His face had started to form a smile, but immediately any excitement or warmth on his face died. He looked as though the crimson marks on her hand had reached out and grabbed his throat. "You…"

He released her suddenly, turning away. He clasped his hands together and rubbed them again, before clenching them into fists. "No," he muttered under his breath. "This cannot be. How did… no, this cannot be." He turned back around, and noted the books on the desk before her. His face morphed between expressions of shock, disbelief, grief and anger. "Ça me fait chier, how did this happen?!" he hissed.

Tori blinked again, she didn't know exactly what caused the shift in her cousin's temper...and then her mother's words rang in her skull.

"My family doesn't exactly like me very well. If you run into one of them...do not be surprised if they treat you coldly,"

Tori's face turned pale as she held her hand, the silver ring catching the light, a stark contrast between the crimson marks.

"Aristide, I don't know," she said calmly, though her face showed how scared she was, "it just...it just appeared…"

His mouth described a downward arc from mere anger to red-faced fury. "Just appeared?" he rumbled. "You expect me to believe this? I knew there was something strange about your family," he added, his voice rising; he received several irritated looks from students studying around them. "You all think we are stupid, unworthy of your knowledge or praise!"

"What!?" Tori stammered, "No! Aristide, that's not it! I honestly don't know!"

She took a frightened step backwards, covering her marked hand with her non-marked one. She stumbled over a book and nearly tumbled into another student as she tried to get away from her cousin.

"No!" Aristide began to screech as she clambered to put distance between them. He strode angrily forward. "You have stolen it! Stolen her only chance! She will die because of you, because of your selfish thievery!"

"Bloody hell, mate," interrupted a voice from the next aisle over. The tone was not offended, or even particularly bothered; the red-headed boy that stood up and observed the two of them wore a confident smirk on his face, and - without moving - seemed to swagger as he spoke. "Puttin' on a bit of a show, innit? Bit lively for a library."

"Stay out of this, Jeremy," Aristide snarled in response. "This is a family matter."

"Well, seein' as you've got the attention of half the buildin', I'd say it's a bit more than a family matter, now." Jeremy leapt up onto his desk, and sailed over the partition that divided the aisles, placing himself between Aristide and his quarry. "Looks awful, pickin' on your youngers, innit?"

"Don't. Get. In my way," Aristide rumbled threateningly.

"Or what?" Jeremy riposted nonchalantly. "You gonna start something, in 'ere? Go on, then, let's 'ave it."

Tori looked back and forth between her Savior and then her irate cousin. She wasn't sure if she should leave and leave the man to Aristide or if she should stay and risk having bodily harm done to Jeremy.

Her eyes flicked to Aristide and then to the sunlit doors. Leave...or stay? She wanted to see what happened...but she also valued her life highly. She shook her head. She'd stay...not out of wanting Aristide to get hurt if he chose to fight, but she knew that he would try and hunt her down as soon as she left the Library. Perhaps she would stand a better chance if Jeremy were watching over her...at least until she got out of the Clocktower boundaries.

As Aristide seethed with and and began leaning forward, Jeremy's hand slipped inconspicuously into his jacket pocket. When the French mage took his first step forward, Jeremy's hand snapped forward, flinging what appeared to be a roll of pennies, which snapped open, sending the bizarrely shiny copper-colored coins rolling, tumbling and scattering every which way. Three of them skittered to a halt at Tori's feet; most of them clustered around Aristide. Jeremy grinned.

"Tell you what, mate," he said flippantly. "Your choice: step forward, I'll wreck this place for you, yeah? Step back, everything's gonna be just fine." His last two words were delivered with impossible smugness. "Whadd'ya say?"

Aristide froze. He shook with anger. "You…" he hissed.

Tori stared at the bright 'pennies'. What were they that got Aristide worked up? Grenades of some sort? Half of her mind wanted to bend down and examine them...but the other half screeched that it was a stupid idea and to just leave them alone. She took half a step farther from the 'pennies', she didn't want to accidently brush one by mistake...particularly if Jeremy said that they'd destroy the place.

Aristide made a series of inarticulate noises of rage, before turning on a heel and stalking angrily away. Jeremy watched him leave, until he was out of sight. Suddenly, he began to laugh.

"Oh, man," Jeremy cackled gleefully. "Did you see his face?" He turned back, and regarded Tori with confident pompousness. "Took a bound, didn't he? You alright, miss?" He offered his hand, to help her stand.

Tori nodded, taking the hand.

"Thank you," she told him as she got to her feet, "I really appreciate the help. I really have to go, it's starting to get late and I need to catch the train back home,"

She dreaded what conversation she'd have to give her mother if her mother found out she had skipped out of her job and travelled to the Clocktower…

Jeremy snatched her hand as she tried to depart. "Aww, come now," he chuckled. "Take a breath, relax!"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. His green jacket rustled as he seemed to comfort himself, leaning back against a nearby desk, still gripping her hand.

"What's the hurry?" Jeremy chortled happily, still gripping her hand. "Everything alright?"

"Just the fact that my mother will probably kill me if I'm late coming home," Tori replied, "I really should be going, she would be worried sick if I wasn't home,"

She tried to remove her hand from Jeremy's, thankfully his grip wasn't too hard.

"Thank you again for helping me. But I do need to go," she said once again before taking her hand out of his and starting to walk out of the library, hoping to not run into Aristide before she left the campus and to catch the train on time.

* * *

Tori quietly closed the front door behind her. The train had gotten delayed and made her late getting home. The young woman cautiously looked around the dusky home, not seeing her mother anywhere.

 _"Thank the Lord…"_ Tori thought gratefully as she took a step farther into the house...only to step on that one floorboard that always creaked.

She froze, heart pounding in her chest as she looked around. Seeing nothing, she let out the breath she was holding and started to move towards her room…

"Where. _Have._ You. _Been?"_ came the yell from the living room, making Tori jump straight up as her mother stalked towards her, "It's nearly dark and _no_ phone-call! You could have _died!_ Victoria Jeanne Hart, what in the world have you been do-"

Her mother choked off, coughing hard and grabbing the counter for support. Tori rushed to her side and helped her to her chair, setting her down before running for a glass of water, which her mother gratefully took.

Once the coughing subsided, Tori's mother set the glass on the lampstand and grabbed her daughter's marked hand.

"Tori...where were you?" she asked, "Don't lie to me, please…"

"I got sidetracked," Tori told her, "And there was a delay on the road back here. My phone also died so I couldn't call you,"

Her mother fixed a chilling blue glare on her. She didn't believe Tori's lies one bit...but one thing about Tori was that if she didn't want to talk about something...she normally wouldn't. She sighed. It was pointless to get Tori to talk.

"Just...promise me you will let me know next time?" her mother asked, "And not leave the house without your phone charged all the way?"

Tori gave a smile as she held her mother's hand.

"I promise," she agreed.

* * *

Tori sat on her bed, looking at her marked hand and sighing. She wasn't sure of what to do. According to the book, she needed to Summon her Servant in order to participate in the war...but she had no idea what to summon them with!

She rubbed her ring subconsciously as she stood. Perhaps she could do it without a catalyst...maybe it just had to be a place the Servant had lived or been? But what Hero would have lived in this little area of Domrémy, France? Well...one hero that Tori had known...but she wouldn't be a Heroic Spirit, it wasn't possible. The young woman closed her blue eyes and stood. Whatever the case...it was time to bring the Servant to the world. Time to become a true Master.

Tori quietly snuck out of the house, this time avoiding the squeaky floorboard, and bolted into the forest to the area she deemed would be a good place to Summon. She'd scouted the area earlier, and of the places she looked, this one was the one that just felt...right. Like this was the place her Servant would breathe their first breath of this world.

She put down her backpack and pulled out a packet filled with a crimson liquid. Her throat tightened as she remembered what it was and what she had done to get it.

"I'm sorry, Mama...but when this is over, you won't need it. I'll make sure of it!" she stated firmly as she opened the packet and started to 'draw' upon the forest floor.

She stood back, looking at her handiwork and giving a shuddering breath of relief. That part was done...now for the more difficult part.

"Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Let each be turned over five times, simply breaking asunder the fulfilled time. Let silver and steel be the essence," Tori recited from memory, holding her marked hand as the circle turned from silver black in the moonlight to blued silver, "Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Raise a wall, against the wind that shall fall."

The wind picked up, making her hair whip around like a golden flame, but Tori continued on.

"Close the four cardinal gates. Come out from the crown. Rotate the three-branched road reaching the Kingdom." she continued, voice still slightly shaky, "I shall declare here. Your body shall serve under me,"

The silver blue glow burned white and Tori's expression grew even more determined as she raised her hand.

"My fate shall be with your sword. Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail!" she cried, "If you will submit to this will and this reason...then answer!"

The light turned blinding, forcing Tori to close her eyes, but she kept at it, her voice growing from a confident call to a warcry.

"An oath shall be sworn here! I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven. I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell! From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint," she yelled, "Guardian of the Scales!"

The light burned brighter yet, searing heat over Tori's hand and down the birthmark on her back, the wind roared and the trees moaned…

And it stopped.

The brilliant silver light died and Tori slowly lowered her hands. Her breath caught as she spotted a female figure standing within the circle. Her long blonde hair rippled down her back in a thick braid as a silver headdress caught the moonlight. The woman's brilliant amethyst gaze sparkled as she looked at Tori. She readjusted her grip on a long spear bound with snowy cloth about three quarters of the way up.

"Servant Lancer, Jeanne d'Arc," the woman beamed as she extended her hand, "I'm really glad to meet you,"

 **Say hello to our first Master and Servant! Jeanne d'Arc is a Ruler class in _Apocrypha_ and _Grand Order_ but here in _Salvage Conviction_ she is our Lancer. Next up we meet our second Master (well...his story, we've already met a few here!). And Tori _did_ have a relic, much like Rin did when she summoned Archer. Her Ring is the catalyst, passed down from generation to generation...it was Jeanne's ring.**

 **Tori is not very knowledgeable about magecraft yet...her mother kinda hid the fact that they were mages...and that Tori carried the Mystic Code**

 **Anyway, hope you liked it. If you did, please let me know!**

 **Qui vállë tóquetë, ván tecë (If no review comes from y'all; no story comes from me)**

 **Máriessë ar mára tecië**

 **Farewell and fair writing**

 **Elhini Prime signing off.**


	3. Chapter 2

**So. Um...this one is a bit more brutal. One reason why I changed the rating from T to M here. Anyways...here we meet the second of the two Masters I have control over. This is a _big_ shift in tone from what we saw with Tori's chapter. There are some very sensitive topics in this one, so be warned.**

Chapter II

Amos hit the wall so hard that whatever air left in his lungs rushed out. Pain stabbed through his ribs and side but he kept silent. He knew that saying something or making a sound would only make it worse. He wiped his mouth, internally flinching at the crimson streak left on it. His dark eyes flickered as a shadow passed before him.

 _"Not again...you've already got me down on the floor…"_ he thought bitterly, _"I burn dinner once and this is what I get…"_

"Useless." Ryan Fletching somehow managed to slur and snarl simultaneously. "After everything we've done for you, you just don't learn. Anything! How can you possibly-"

"Dear." His wife, Lyra - Amos's other foster parents - usually spoke with an infuriatingly permanent pretentiousness; any seemingly genuine affection that she displayed was usually followed by an instance in which she got what she wanted. The correlation was not difficult to determine, but somehow she was difficult to resist. "What good does berating the boy do? This is not helpful to him, or to anyone, wouldn't you say?"

Ryan seemed angrier. "Just because he-!"

"Dear," she said again; her voice had softened poignantly; there was almost an uncharacteristic pout on her face. Even Amos could see how she was so reliably convincing, even if he could see straight through her façade. "I'm hungry."

Ryan's face twisted into something like disgust, but only for a moment. Soon, his expression softened, and a vodka-scented sigh escaped him. "I… ugh, fine. Whatever." He stalked from the room to collapse into his favorite chair - next to his favorite bottle - and pulled a Marlboro Menthol Gold from his pocket, reaching for a lighter on the table beside him.

"Dear," came the call a third time. "Outside. Please?"

"Yeah, yeah," Ryan replied; heavy footfalls and a closing door indicated that she had done as he asked.

After a moment, Lyra approached him. She smiled. It seemed so reassuring, in spite of its assured perfidy. "Are you hurt, Amos?" She reached out to him, touching his arm lightly. "Are you hurt?"

Despite every bone and muscle protesting against moving, Amos knew that if he said 'yes' it wouldn't matter.

 _"I am bleeding, what do you think…"_ he thought bitterly, but he kept his words to himself.

It wasn't like they'd do any good anyway, so he shook his head.

"No, ma'am," he said slowly, trying to keep the pain from lacing his voice.

He started to get up. Internally groaning as his body ached, but he stood upright, wiping the blood off his lip, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly as he took a calming breath.

 _"Don't say anything...just stay calm or you'll have another incident...and we don't want that…"_

"Oh, dear," Lyra said, standing with him; her voice would have been soothing had Amos not found her so snakelike. "Oh, sweetie, you will be fine. Go on, try again. I know you can do it." She gave him a beaming smile before turning and walking out of the room to do whatever indulgences she entertained while waiting for him to do the housework.

He looked down at himself. While the damage wasn't bad per say...his favorite shirt was spattered with blood and tracked with mud from where his foster father had kicked him. If he tried doing the chores and cooking dinner with this on...it wouldn't end well for him.

Amos gave a sigh as he limped towards the bathroom, his ribs screeching in protest with every breath he took, almost as if they wished he would stop breathing just so they could get a break. He got inside the tiny room, shut and locked the door and proceeded to peel his shirt off of his back. He grimaced as he looked at the rapidly forming bruises...but he counted his blessings nonetheless.

For one, he was still alive (he wasn't sure if that was quite the blessing or a curse…) but other than the split lip and bloodied nose, his face was fine. Most of the damage seemed to be on his chest, back and sides...so no explaining the mysterious bruises to his handful of friends and the teachers. He highly doubted the excuse of him walking into the doorknob was going to fly this time. His history professor didn't look convinced when Amos told him that was what happened.

He turned on the sink and began to clean up, grabbing the anti-septic and other medical supplies to make the damage less hard on the eyes. When he was done with his face, he started cleaning up his hands, scrubbing the already crusty blood off of them...except some of it wouldn't come off.

Amos frowned, holding his hand and examining it closer...only for his dark eyes to widen in shock. On his hand was what looked like a spoked wheel flanked by two laurel branches. Trembling, Amos backed up until he hit the wall, still stunned as he rubbed the crimson marks.

Could it be? No...that wasn't possible...he was too far away from that nonsense in Fuyuki to even be _considered_ a Master. But there they were...clear as day. Three Command Seals. He gave a breathless laugh as he leaned his head against the wall.

His parents had told him about the Holy Grail Wars when he was a kid, he remembered that they had told him they were dangerous...but the reward was spectacular. To get your heart's desire? That was a prize that anyone would kill for.

Amos' smile faltered slightly as he remembered why he was with fosters instead of his family. He could still hear their screams of agony as the flames burned higher and higher, hissing in their dry crackling language that Amos knew all too well.

He glared at the swirling pattern on his arm, his family's Crest, ironically being pyromancers of great skill...only to lose everyone but him in a single day to the very flames they thought they could control.

He had been six.

Amos shook his head and finished getting himself cleaned up. The sooner her got his chores done, the sooner he could just go off by himself and be at peace.

After a few hours of scathing glares from his foster father and some sickly sweet words from his foster mother, Amos finally was able to get away. He gave a sigh as he climbed out of his window and sat on the roof, looking up at the stars that were muted and barely shone through the lights of the suburbs.

He gave a sigh as he remembered the country house he and his parents had lived in, where the sky seemed endless with thousands of stars. Here, however, they were choked off and strangled...much like he felt.

Amos looked down from the heavens and at his hand, tracing the crimson marks upon it. He'd been chosen...but what would he give to the Grail as a wish? His heart clenched as a faint spark flickered around his fingertips. There. That was one thing he'd wish for. If the Grail couldn't give his parents back to him...he'd wish just to see them so briefly that he could apologize to them for causing their deaths.

But, there was another problem. He was very sure that his fosters knew nothing about magecraft or the Holy Grail War...and he was doubly sure that they wouldn't help him even if it meant getting rid of him. BUt he needed a relic to summon his Servant...what class it was he didn't care, just so long as he had someone to help him win this war.

He heard voices below him...probably his fosters having another talk about their jobs in the museum. He normally tuned them out...but this time he found himself listening.

"How much?!" Lyra squeaked incredulously. If Amos had ever heard this much excitement in her voice - and that was most certainly in question - it would have been a long, long while indeed. "Who is this much buyer, and how does he have so much-"

"It doesn't matter," Ryan's voice returned, similarly animated; apparently, whatever had just transpired had had such an impact that he had immediately sobered somewhat. "He has opened an escrow account. I've seen the money, it's good. What he wants is important, a mainstay of our museum for sure, but given the timeframe… I jacked up the price. And he doubled it. Look at this!"

There was a moment of silence.

"Ryan… we're going to be set for life! This is more than we could ever need!"

"I don't know about that," Ryan replied. "I can think of some amazing things to use that money for…"

Another silence.

"We have to do this. We have to!"

"Yes, my dear," Amos could hear the grin on his face. "We do. We will. He wants to meet in an hour."

"So soon…" Lyra responded. "Well… I'll need to redo my makeup. Who is this man, anyway?"

"He's from Germany, I think, some kind of reclusive collector, I should expect. Said his name was 'Von Einzbern', or something like that. You know Germans, none of their names are pronounceable."

Amos' eyes widened and the name. He'd heard of the Einzberns, mostly from his parents before they had passed. They were one of the great mage families and very prominent in the Grail Wars. If he remembered right, they'd had representatives in the last two. This could be bad for him and he knew it. If an Einzbern was contacting his fosters and needed something in a timeframe...there was a very good chance that there was an Einzbern in this war.

He shook his head. It didn't matter. No matter what family was there, he wouldn't let them stand in his way. Amos gave a hum as an idea entertained itself. If there was someone coming to the museum to meet with his fosters, the curators...there was a good chance that many of the displays would be unlocked…

Amos put his head in his hands.

 _"You idiot...you're going to get yourself thrown in jail!"_ the rational part of his mind screeched at him.

But he didn't have a choice. It was act now and flee to Fuyuki for the War...or don't do anything and waste the opportunity that had given itself to him.

"Well…" he muttered as he quietly stood, "Looks like I'm going to be on America's Most Wanted…"

* * *

Following the Fletchers to the museum was no difficult task. Lyra had adorned herself in a green, glitzy, sequin-bedecked dress. Golden hoops hung from her ears, thick enough that they might have been uncomfortably heavy. Ryan had thrown on a very expensive tuxedo; it was clear they wanted to leave a good impression on this generous Einzbern buyer. They took the car; this late at night, it would have been a bad idea to walk, even though the museum was only a few blocks away - Amos, however, did not suffer the encumbrances of a posh appearance; he arrived at the museum mere minutes after they had, just in time to see them shake hands with a similarly strikingly-dressed young man in suit so clean and pristine a white that it was matched only by his hair. They shared a few brief words which Amos could not hear, before they headed inside, locking the front door behind them.

Amos crept closer, examining the door and the lock. He gave a sigh. He hated using his magic...mainly because it always got him in trouble. Unfortunately, he had no choice now. If he wanted to get into the museum, he needed to use his 'gift'.

He placed his fingertips on the lock and closed his eyes, mentally touching the sleeping embers of his family legacy.

" _At saraph_ ," he murmured, feeling the Crest on his arm warm and send tingles throughout his body, concentrating in his fingertips.

He opened his eyes just to see the lock glowing a warm cherry color, despite not feeling the fire burning in the lock himself. He heard a faint clanking sound as the lock was seared through and he quietly opened the door, slipping through in pursuit of his fosters and their Einzbern guest.

Amos quietly went through the museum, looking at the exhibits not out of curiosity, but with the purpose of determining which would make a good relic for a good Servant. Unfortunately, most of what the museum had was Natural History and he doubted you could summon a dinosaur as a Servant…

 _"No matter how cool that would be…"_ he thought to himself with a smile as he continued on.

He knew the museum often had travelling exhibits. A couple years ago it had been the Egyptian exhibit with its mummies. Last year had been the showcase of Attila the Hun. This year was something about the fall of Rome and the time where Jesus of Nazareth had walked the earth, so that would be the best place to look for a relic. Unfortunately...that would also be where his fosters and the Einzbern representative would be.

The hard walls and floors made it very easy to tell where the Fletchers and the buyer were; their voices echoed through the halls. While this helped Amos maintain a general understanding of where they were, it also made his own efforts to remain silent more difficult to manage. In spite of a heavy dose of concentration in this endeavor, his shoes still squeaked against the polished marble floors. He could only hope that their conversation was loud enough to block out the evidence of his infiltration.

"I must say," Ryan's voice could be heard. "I find myself wondering what has brought you to us so… desperately. Not to say that your demeanor has been anything other than the picture of composure," he added, almost apologetically. "But you can understand my concerns. This is all highly irregular, this timeframe, the amount…"

"Yes," came another voice, no doubt that of the immaculately-garbed buyer. "I understand. Much of my purpose here, unfortunately, must remain confidential; I believe much of the sum I offer should account for that particular concern. Suffice it to say, we have an urgent need for this particular piece to complete a certain… assemblage."

"Oho!" Ryan laughed eagerly. "So you're putting together a, uh, high value contract of some sort?"

There was a pause.

"You might say that," the buyer replied quietly.

Amos' blood ran cold. This wasn't just the Einzbern representative...this was the Master. He kept sneaking behind them, dodging behind the pillars and some of the exhibits every time he saw them pause. He nearly got caught by Lyra as she turned her head to flip her hair out of her eyes, but luckily there was an exhibit he could dodge behind and thus avoided getting caught. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched...not by the security feed, but by something else. Almost as if someone knew he was there. He dropped the notion though. There was no way that they could know he was following...though he was tempted to take off his shoes to avoid the squeaking they made against the tile.

In what few glimpses that Amos could take at the conversation, though, he noted several key facts: The Einzbern man most certainly appeared to have some sort of mark on his right hand, and he held two suitcases. This seemed to verify his realization: this was very, very likely the Einzbern Master. If he was chosen by the Grail, then he was absolutely not to be taken lightly. Moreover, the two suitcases gave him a basic understanding of what exactly he was buying. Certainly he was making this purchase at a substantial mark-up, but if the money didn't even fit into a single case...

Then this was no ordinary Relic. This was something of overwhelming import. And that did not bode well for Amos's own chances in this War.

The feeling of dread filled Amos' heart. The Einzbern Master and the fosters were blocking his view of the exhibit. Perhaps it would be a good idea to move up a floor. There was a balcony above the exhibit...he could better see what was going on as well as look as the relics he could use.

With that, he quietly slipped away up to the staircase, the feeling of dread lessening with each step away from the other Master. He finally made his way to the balcony, looking over and watching what was transpiring below him.

As he reached his new vantage point, the Ryan unlocked the case, and opened the thick security-glass container. Then, when he turned back to his business partner, the Einzbern man handed both suitcases out, one to each of them. To Amos's surprise - and the Fletcher's as well - when Ryan and Lyra placed their hands on the cases and the man released them, they both dropped them.

"Whoa," Ryan's voice rang out. "What is this?"

The Master, poise still completely untarnished, uttered only the following response.

"As curators of a museum, I imagine you are familiar with the fact that large sums of cash can become quite… cumbersome. Even I could not carry one hundred million dollars in bills. This is… easier."

Flustered, Ryan popped the case open, and it was revealed that the cases were jammed full not with paper notes, but instead with uncut diamonds.

"You can see how this might be more convenient."

"I…" was all Ryan could manage, transfixed as he was by the precious stones before him.

The feeling of dread intensified for Amos. There was something off...if you wanted to give that much money, normally you'd write a check for it for the convenience. At least...that's what he would have done. Something wasn't right...and that made him shrink down just a little more so he wouldn't be seen.

Before Ryan could craft a more eloquent answer, an impossibly loud BANG sounded from the front entrance, followed by a tumultuous crash. The three figures below Amos spun to face the noise; the sudden shock on the face of the to-this-point expressionless man only served to make the whole thing more alarming.

"What was-" Lyra began, but their buyer interrupted her.

"What trickery is this?" he hissed, apparently very angry very suddenly. "What have you done?"

"Nothing!" Ryan insisted. "I don't know what this is, what are you-"

As the echoes from the crash died down, heavy footfalls could be heard from the front entrance. They were slow, almost deliberate, and each one was accompanied by the grating noise of clanking chains scraping across the marble floor. The three below appeared to regard something directly below Amos with shock and horror, particularly the Einzbern Master.

"No," he murmured, eyes wide with horror. "No, you can't…"  
-

Amos dared to poke his head out between the pillars of the balcony so he could see, but he couldn't see much even with the extra room...for fear of getting his head stuck and/or being seen.

Judging by the expressions on the Einzbern Master's and his fosters' faces, this newcomer was not a welcome sight...or a good one for that matter. And that knowledge both fascinated and terrified Amos to no end.

"Adalbert!" the Master demanded once he had found his voice. "This is inexcusable, what are you doing?"

The rasp that responded a few moments later felt like sandpaper applied directly to Amos's ears.

" _GEREVERT_ ," came the rumbling reply. " _THIEF_ …"

"What is the meaning of this?!" Gerevert responded, stepping back towards the relic he had just purchased, fumbling to place his hand on it without taking his eyes off of whatever thing stood below Amos's balcony. "You can't-"

" _I CAN'T?!_ " it screeched suddenly. The echo died into silence. Lyra - still on the floor from where she had been inspecting the diamonds - knelt, frozen, in terror, her eyes locked on the source of the outcry. Ryan had stumbled backwards at the sheer volume of the thing's voice.

" _Can't_ ," it repeated, much more quietly. " _Can't, can't. Cannot, can not. Can,_ " it seemed to ruminate over the word. " _Can… to be able_ …"

A horrible pause.

" _YOU ARE WRONG._ "

A figure dashed forward with a speed that belied the outfit that came into view. Even in a full-pelt run towards the three, it was clear that he wore only the tattered remains of a straight jacket, and other nullified restraints. Gerevert raised his hand, but Adalbert moved unnaturally quickly; his filthy, unkempt hair was suddenly speckled by blood as he rammed full-tilt into Gerevert's chest, throwing the Master backwards as though he'd been hit by a car. Gerevert collided with a display case, which successfully stopped his momentum; cracks spider-webbed through the surface, barely visible for the starburst of blood that accompanied the collision of Gerevert's head with the case.

Adalbert's head turned to look slowly down at Lyra. There was silence.

Then she screamed.

Amos knew that scream...that was the scream of someone who knew they were going to die. He'd heard that scream before. It had been twelve, nearly thirteen, years since he had heard it...but the sound was still seared into his memory.

He wanted to turn his head, close his eyes, anything...but he could not look away.

The sound of the scream seemed to galvanize Adalbert. He showed no mercy. His hands shot out from under the frayed and torn jacket, snatching her up and lifting her easily into the air. She struggled and kicked at him for just a moment, before he threw her savagely into the floor at his feet. Even from his perch on the balcony, Amos could hear the bones shatter and the blood splatter.

For once in his life, Ryan Fletcher seemed to finally find his courage. "You bastard!" he roared, snatching the relic from the open case beside him: it was a rusted, dilapidated sword, with a bizarre curve to it, but it was better than nothing. "You son of a bitch, I'll kill you!" He threw his weight forward and swung with all his might.

Once again, blood sprayed through the air. Ryan opened his eyes - having unconsciously closed them during the engagement - and noted with a start that the sword had connected; he had succeeded! He nearly had time to celebrate his own self-defense before Adalbert's hand - the one he hadn't used to block Ryan's swing - was wrapped around his throat. Ryan gurgled in pain and surprise as his entire weight was lifted only by his neck; he clawed at Adalbert's wrists and fingers, trying to break the iron grip.

" _CAREFUL_ …" he breathed, a cruel chuckle buoying up beneath the words his words. " _I'LL NEED THAT._ "

Adalbert flicked his wrist; the sword clattered to the floor. Then, he plunged his fingers into Ryan's chest, and waited until he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

The last thing that Ryan Fletcher heard was Adalbert's nightmare-inducing laugh as he pulled downwards, tearing his head from his body with a sickening snap.

At that moment, Amos turned his head and tried hard not to throw up. He didn't like either of his fosters...but to go out like that…

No one deserved to die. Not like that.

 _"Please, dear God, don't let him find me up here…"_ Amos prayed, his heartbeat throbbing in his throat, _"Please don't look up...please God...please…"_

Could a monster like that hear him? Surely not...but Amos kept still, trying to calm himself and failing miserably.

Adalbert observed his work with apparent satisfaction. Amos could hear the sounds of his barely restrained laughter from time to time, as he moved to look at where his brother had been thrown-

" _GRAAGHH_!" Adalbert cried out in pain as his chest was riven by an invisible blow. Gerevert had somehow picked himself back up after Adalbert had thrown him like a rag doll, his white suit stained crimson. He stood with his hand out, and he had produced a staff seemingly from nowhere.

"You will not take this from me," Gerevert barked confidently. "You are not worthy! Elder Acht chose me!"

" _HE CHOSE YOU BECAUSE HE WAS TOO WEAK TO CHOOSE ME,_ " Adalbert answered. " _I AM THE EINZBERN'S PERFECTION_."

"You're a failed experiment," Gerevert called back. "You're a monster!"

Amos watched the two with morbid curiosity. What kind of person could take a blow like that and get up again? He remembered that the Einzberns were a family that specialized in something...but he couldn't remember what. Was it a durability spell or just how they were in general?

"You were a mistake that the Elder never should have consented to elevate!" Gerevert bellowed. "You, who could not even withstand the procedure undergone by a young girl, who became a Master! You're weak-minded, you're an embarrassment to the family! You're a freak!"

There was a long, pregnant silence. Its interruption was gradual.

" _Ehhhhhgh_ ," a gurgle escaped Adalbert's lips, which turned after a short time into a blood-curdling laugh. " _Ehhhgheeegheeh hehh hehh hehh HEHH HEHH HEHH HEHH, AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHl!"_

He appeared to need a moment to contain himself. Gerevert eyed him with disgust.

" _FREAK_ …" Adalbert repeated slowly. " _FREAK_ … _YESSSSS…._ _I APPROVE."_

"Approve of what?" Gerevert demanded.

 _"OF THE WORD,"_ Adalbert responded maliciously. " _FREAK. I LIKE IT. IT HAS WEIGHT."_

Gerevert sneered. "Only the mentally deficient would approve of an insult."

 _"NOT IF THEY FIT!"_

Adalbert dashed forward once more, but Gerevert had expected this; he threw his hands forward, and what appeared to be some sort of shockwave emanated from them; it struck Adalbert across the chest once more, cleaving a horrific gash from shoulder to hip.

However, it did not even serve to slow Gerevert's attacker down. Adalbert leapt upon him, knocking him off his feet, and pinning him to the ground. He bared his teeth; even from his post, Amos could tell that they were sharpened to points; every one of them, like a shark's maw. And before Gerevert could protest, Adalbert dove forward, sank his teeth into Gerevert's throat, and - with his hands pressing Gerevert's face into the floor, tore most of his neck away. Gerevert's struggles fell away mere seconds later.

Amos covered his mouth to prevent himself from screaming in terror. He wanted to flee...but he knew that if he so much as moved a muscle, that...that monster would come for him and kill him just like the others. So he stayed still, his breath shaky and his body trembling as tears of fear streaked down his face, and watched to see what the monster would do next.

Adalbert stood, panting; not with exertion, but with delight. He indulged in a horrifying cackle, before dragging Gerevert's body into the center of the room. Then, he held out his hand, just as Gerevert had. He uttered an incantation, and the reinforced glass around the empty display case shattered with uncanny ease. Picking up the strange sword, he fitted it - bizarrely - back into its stand within the case, before returning his attention to the body.

He reached down, and picked up Gerevert easily. Then, he turned the corpse upside down, shaking it ruthlessly. Blood splashed onto the floor; Gerevert's head shook and dangled sickeningly. When Adalbert was finished, he tossed the body aside with ease; it flopped to the floor, and the head rolled to a sickening angle, held to its torso only by what little flesh of his neck remained.

With that, Adalbert leaned down over the pool of blood. He covered his hands with it, the odd mad chuckle escaping from his lips. Once he was satisfied, he began to draw; a perfect circle emerged from his ministrations.

Amos watched silently, too afraid to move and yet just as afraid to stay hidden. He knew what was happening, he was going to be seeing a Servant come, that was the only explanation for what Adalbert was doing. He only hoped that when the Servant got here...he would still remain undetected.

With a bit of dread, he realized something else. Adalbert would be one of the six Masters that Amos would have to go up against and hopefully defeat. But how in the world could he defeat someone like that? Who just straight up killed three people as easy as plucking the head off a daisy? Amos sincerely hoped that the Servant who was getting ready to come into the world would be weak...and that his own would be strong.

It took Adalbert over twenty minutes to complete his magic circle. Once he had finished it, he suddenly gripped his hand. From his position above, Amos could see once he had command seals on his left hand, and that Gerevert's had disappeared. He was, in fact, a Master.

And then, the incantation that Amos had feared began to slither from Adalbert's lips:

 _"LET SILVER AND STEEL BE THE ESSENCE! LET STONE, AND THE ARCHDUKE OF CONTRACTS BE THE FOUNDATION! LET RISE A WALL AGAINST THE WIND THAT SHALL FALL! LET THE FOUR CARDINAL GATES CLOSE! LET THE THREE-FORKED ROAD FROM THE CROWN REACHING UNTO THE KINGDOM ROTATE!_

 _LET IT BE DECLARED NOW: YOUR FLESH SHALL SERVE UNDER ME, AND MY FATE SHALL GUIDE YOUR SWORD! SUBMIT TO THE BECKONING OF THE HOLY GRAIL! I DEMAND YOU ANSWER, AND SUBMIT TO THIS WILL AND THIS TRUTH!_

 _AN OATH IS SWORN HERE: I SHALL ATTAIN ALL THE GLORIES OF HEAVEN; I SHALL HAVE ALL DOMINION OVER ALL EVILS!_

 _BUT LET THINE EYES BE CLOUDED BY CHAOS! YOU ARE ONE CAGED IN MADNESS! AND I, THE WIELDER OF YOUR CHAINS!_

 _FROM THE SEVENTH HEAVEN, ATTENDED BY THREE GREAT WORDS OF POWER, COME FORTH FROM THE RING OF RESTRAINT, DISRUPTOR OF THE HOLY BALANCE!"_

The blinding flash of light that followed yielded a figure: a tattered red dress - no, a white one, marred by blood. Blonde hair, streaked with gray, falling from an ornate bun atop its head. Green, bloodshot eyes, and bared teeth. A sword dangling from her fingers, nearly identical to the one in the case, but now colored in crimson with a bright, chrome-colored edge. The teeth parted and the sound of Adalbert's laughter mingled with a blood-curdling scream.

"RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Amos covered his ears and hunkered down. He just witnessed Berserker coming into the world. He didn't know her name exactly...but he knew that she would be one to look out for, one that would possibly be the greatest threat to him and his Servant. He could only hope that the one he summoned would be able to at least be able to hold her at bay long enough for him to attempt to try and get at her Master. However...even that seemed impossible.

All he needed to do was wait...just wait until they left. Then he could attempt his own summoning.

Soon enough, Adalbert turned around. There were sounds outside: sirens, and cars arriving. The security system must have had alerted the police, somehow. Adalbert cackled.

" _TIME TO SEE WHAT YOU'RE MADE OF_ ," Adalbert cackled. _"BERSERKER."_

"RRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHH!" Berserker snarled, and with blinding speed she dashed out the door. Horrific sounds could be heard outside; screams, indescribable violence, and even vehicular destruction. Adalbert followed her, rubbing his hands together gleefully; his footfalls proceeded from Amos's earshot.

* * *

Amos waited until everything went silent, saying a silent prayer for those who had fallen by this monster and by Berserker...even his fosters. Unfortunately, there was no time to grieve. He needed to get what he came here for.

He waited another minute, making sure that he was alone, before finally standing upright and cautiously walking back to the first level. He shuddered at the carnage before him as he walked into the main room, he could see Lyra's crumpled body on the floor...like a ragdoll that some toddler had thrown during a tantrum. He could see Ryan's headless corpse quietly oozing blood from it's own crumpled position. And Gerevert's...Amos had to clap his hand over his mouth to fight the shriek that threatened to come.

Amos took a few shaky breaths, trying to calm down. Once the fear was tempered somewhat, he walked over to an untouched exhibit. The glass box contained what looked to be the shattered remains of a chariot or some other wooden structure. His hope rose slightly as he removed the top and reached in, picking up one of the larger shards of wood.

Perhaps he'd get someone like Julius Caesar or Marc Anthony...someone who could help him against whoever that Berserker was.

He looked at the magic circle that had been drawn with Gerevert's blood. As awful as it was...it was there and it was one less thing that Amos had to do.

So, with no further hesitation, Amos sat the wooden fragment on the glass container and stood on the other side of the circle. He took a breath and began the chant himself.

"Let silver and steel be the essence," Amos murmured, "Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Raise a wall, against the wind that shall fall."

The moon shone through the shattered doors, painting ghostly shadows on the floor as the circle faintly glowed with blued-silver.

"Close the four cardinal gates. Come out from the crown. Rotate the three-branched road reaching the Kingdom." he continued as the wind tugged at his jacket, "I shall declare here. Your body shall serve under me,"

The silver blue glow burned white and Amos held his hand up, turning the Command Seals towards the brightening circle.

"My fate shall be your fate. Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail!" he roared, "If you will submit to this will and this reason...then answer!"

The wind shrieked, tearing at Amos and flinging his dark hair into his face. His eyes narrowed as the light burned them, but he kept going.

"An oath shall be sworn here! I will attain all virtues of all of Heaven. I will have dominion over all evils of all of Hell! From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint," he yelled, "Guardian of the Scales!"

The light flared, a supernova of holy light that outshone the sun in Amos' mind. The Command Seals seared his hand and his Crest burned, but Amos gave a jubilant smile. He'd done it. He'd summoned a Servant. He was a Master now.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the light faded and Amos looked up, smiling as a man stood from a kneeling position in the circle.

He was tall, with dark hair that hit just at the nape of his neck. His dark brown eyes were kind, yet they sparkled with a mischievous air that gave off the aura of a slight troublemaker. Dressed in fine, white linen ornamented with faint colored threads, he gave off the air of someone important, but not truly royal. He gave a warm smile and pressed his fist to his heart.

"I am Judah Ben-Hur, Rider Class Servant," the man, Judah Ben-Hur, started, "At your service, Master,"

 **Say hello to our second Master and Servant! We were trying to come up with some Servants that weren't in Fate at all...and I mentioned to 30CaliberDonut the story of Ben-Hur. He'd never heard of it and then I showed him the famous chariot race...I got a "Oh my God that's awesome!" and Ben-Hur ended up as our Rider. I'm not completely sure where we will end up next...but we will have to see!**

 **Anyway, hope you liked it. If you did, please let me know!**

 **Qui vállë tóquetë, ván tecë (If no review comes from y'all; no story comes from me)**

 **Máriessë ar mára tecië**

 **Farewell and fair writing**

 **Elhini Prime signing off.**


	4. Chapter 3

**And we're back! To the guest who called this story crap. You know what? I don't care. It hurt before but then my friend helped me realize how _sad_ it was that _that_ is all you could say...and not even give a reason. I would _love_ to see what you're reasoning is for why this story is 'bad'. So please, sign into your account or make one so we, as in my friend and I, can talk to you about it. Anyways! This one is a bit shorter and I had _nothing_ to do with it. This was all 30CaliberDonut. We're about to meet Master number 4 as well as her Servant.**

Chapter III

The dull roar of the Boeing 777's engines drenched the cabin. Many of the passengers were asleep; Malaysia Airlines MH690 had taken off at 8PM from Kuala Lumpur, headed towards Beijing. it was the dead of night; the flight attendants hadn't been down the aisle in over an hour. There was no point, given the time.

It was the perfect opportunity.

The woman that unbuckled her seatbelt stood up then from an aisle seat just outside the first class cabin was dressed entirely in black. She wore her long, stark black hair in a stylish but utilitarian ponytail; she wore tight-fitting cargo pants, combat boots, and a black bolero over a tight, black t-shirt. Stark, hooded eyes - so dark a brown they almost seemed black - took a glance around the cabin; yes, the lack of attention now would suit her nicely.

She made her way forward, towards the first-class cabin. She peeled off, into the restroom, locking the door behind her. She looked at herself in the mirror, for just a moment. She tilted her head to one side; a joint in her neck popped. Then, she grabbed a roll of toilet paper, wadded a long swathe of it around her fist, and - without hesitation - smashed the mirror.

It did not take long for someone to come knocking on the door; no doubt a nearby passenger had heard the commotion and reported it. A knock came through the door, followed by a voice, speaking Mandarin:

"Is everything okay? Are you alright in there?"

By the time the knock had sounded, however, the dead-eyed woman had already pulled a black case from a custom fitting behind the mirror. Shedding her bolero and unlatching the case, she retrieved a shoulder holster, a flak vest, a Ka-Bar combat knife, an FN Five-seveN, five 5.7mm handgun magazines, two proprietary 5.7mm submachine gun magazines, and an FN P90. She slotted a magazine into the two-handed weapon and racked the slide.

The stewardess on the other side had never held a gun before, but she backed away in terror regardless. Before she could so much as touch the opposite bulkhead, however, the woman barreled through the lavatory door. She shoved the stewardess against the wall, covering her mouth, and pointed the P-90 with one hand down the aisle. There were startled gasps from what few passengers were awake and cognitive enough to understand what was happening, but the woman simply put a finger over her lips.

"Let's not disturb those who are asleep, yes?"

There was a pregnant silence. The woman took that as acquiescence. She pushed the stewardess back into the aisle, spun on her heel, and vanished through the curtain into first class.

She completely ignored the passengers in the final cabin before the cockpit; she had only told the ones behind her to be silent so that no one tried to stop her before she reached the front end of the plane. As she approached the locked door, she raised her weapon, and fired two rounds; the armor-piercing bullets shredded through the lock; the magic circuits in her hands glowed brightly as she reinforced her hands, and she wrenched the door open. Both pilots spun around in shock as she took a single step into cockpit; the started to rise, but she jammed the weapon into his face, drawing her handgun with her other hand to keep both of them covered.

"We're changing the flight plan, just a little," she announced. "Do what I say, the worst that will happen is you will be four hours late to your destination. Do you understand?"

Both pilots nodded.

"Good," she responded, and she shut the door again behind her. 

* * *

Two hours later, the woman looked at the plane controls. It was time; they were approaching her stop.

"Thank you for your cooperation, gentlemen," she deadpanned. "Now, you're going to turn on the seatbelt sign, announce that everyone on board needs to take their seats and strap in. It's going to be bumpy for a short time."

With that, she plied the door open again, grabbed and donned a parachute and goggles from the nearest overhead bin, waited for the announcement, then ratched the open the door. The cabin depressurized, but only for a moment; the woman slammed the door shut as she threw herself out and away from the aircraft and into the dead of night. A minute later, she plunged through the cloud line, and the hellscape that had been the city of Fuyuki opened up beneath her.

Finally, she thought, and she yanked the ripcord.

When she landed, she found herself amidst the ruins of what must have been a lovely, cozy temple. All that remained of it now were its foundations; that, and the red arch that had miraculously survived the disaster that had devastated the city. The news had reported that it had been a cataclysmic fire, but Yen Nguyen knew better. The calamity was not something as trivial as a mere fire.

This was the inevitable outcome of the Holy Grail War. And she was here to stop it from happening again.

A brief trek to the east revealed a lake. From what she had heard, this was where the Grail had begun to obliterate everyone and everything in the city. It was no longer recognizably a lake; now, it looked like a hill of molten sludge. Yen padded carefully towards it, making sure not to touch it, at first, but her investigations were going nowhere without the ability to determine what all of this was. Eventually, she approached one of the only trees that had not completely burned down, and plucked a twig from it. The tree was dead; the twig would burn nicely, if the sludge was what caused the fire.

Gingerly she threw the stick into the substance that had covered the lake, and - to her surprise - it bounced off the surface, as though she had tossed it onto hardened concrete. If this was in fact the source of the fire, it seemed to have solidified; it reminded her of molten rock. That would serve her purposes, for now; she could get closer to what seemed to be ground zero, at least.

As she stepped out onto the uneven surface of the lake, her foot brushed against something. She looked down, and her eyes widened just a little.

She knew that what happened here was nothing short of an unmitigated catastrophe. She had expected to find a plethora of bodies, disfigured in cruel and unusual ways. She did not, however, expect to see what she found then.

A hand - rather, what was left of one - protruded just a little ways from the surface, in such a way that it would have been invisible unless she stepped up onto the hardened mud. The hand itself, however, was not what had caught her eye. It appeared to hold something. Whatever it was, it gleamed in the moonlight; it seemed difficult for Yen to believe that a piece of jewelry had survived the disaster, but she could not doubt her eyes: the hand held what appeared to be a silver chain. She knelt to inspect it; it seemed to be stuck in the mud; she could not see the entire thing. Yanking the combat knife from its sheath at the small of her back, she began to dig, being careful to look for signs that the horrid substance could become active again. After ten minutes of carving and prodding, Yen managed to fish the trinket from the mud. When she saw its complete, undamaged form, she could not help but permit a small gasp to escape her lips.

The gem that the chain was attached to was indubitably magical in nature; certainly that was the only reason that it could have been unscathed after all that had happened. But the implications of such a jewel, here, were of greater concern. If there was a pendant constructed from raw mana here, in Fuyuki…

It could only mean that the body over which Yen stood was a Master in the Fifth Grail War. More than that, a jewel mage… this could be none other than Tohsaka Rin. So it was true; the Tohsaka lineage was exterminated in the Fifth War. Yen grimaced; this was a cruel fate for such a family, indeed. In spite of that, she found herself reviewing her knowledge of history. She knew that coming here with the paltry relic that she had acquired had been more than a risk; she knew she would have to rely on her wits more than the power of her Servant, were she to summon the one she had prepared for. Something else, however, now nagged at the back of her mind. She had once noted something about the Tohsaka family that had intrigued her, once upon a time; what could it have been?

That was it. Their relationship with the Zenjou family. Several mage families in the area had used the Zenjou's unparalleled ability to breed mages throughout the generations. She continued to ponder the possibilities. Zenjou… the name rang a bell, from another direction. She remembered reading the name, somewhere else.

When she realized the connection, she started. The Zenjou family… and their ancient relationship with a revered Samurai. This was not an opportunity she could waste. With the knife, she began to dig around the hand, in an attempt to free the body. The hand had nearly been destroyed, but what with the way the mud had hardened, it seemed likely that there was something beneath it preserved.

It was a long, arduous process, but Yen persevered. Two hours later, she had excavated as much as she was going to manage.

Tohsaka Rin's body was nearly unrecognizable. The limbs had not merely been burned down to the bone; the bones had been fused together, which was the only way that they had retained any shape at all. Her face - which must have been contorted in the utmost of agony and despair when she had died - was almost completely gone. She was, however, mummified slightly, which bode well for Yen's endeavors.

Yen laid the body at her feet when she had freed it from the mud. She laid it at her feet, and knelt over it.

"I'm sorry," she said, unsure if she meant it, or if she was participating in some pointless ritual; it simply felt right at the time. "You've been through enough. But you have one final task. Please help me with this. I'm sure you would approve."

With that, she cut what remained of Tohsaka Rin's throat.

The blood that poured forth was just enough to craft a magic circle. Yen wasted no time. She piled some of the crusted mud that she had dug up into a makeshift altar in front of the circle, severed one of Rin's charred hands, and placed it on top. With that, she announced aloud:

"Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let rise a wall against the wind, that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill. Let it be filled five times for every turn, and tear asunder each time. I declare here: your body shall serve me, and my fate shall rest with your sword. Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail; if you would acknowledge this will and reason… then answer!"

The blast of mana that occurred then nearly knocked Yen off her feet; she did not retreat, she merely braced herself against it and continued.

"An oath shall be sworn here! I shall attain all the virtues of Heaven! I shall have dominion over all of the evils of Hell! From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by the three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint… Guardian of the Holy Balance!"

The magic circle erupted into a burst of light; Yen shielded her eyes from the overwhelming blaze. And as suddenly as it appeared, the light was gone. Yen cracked her eyes open just a little, adjusting to the return of the darkness. Then, her eyes shot open.

"What?!"

As expected, a Servant had appeared. She had expected to summon a great warrior, a famous legend. So… what was this supposed to be? The Grail's idea of a joke?

The girl that stood in the magic circle now wore a stony expression, not unlike the one that usually graced Yen's own face. Her long, black hair was done into childish pigtails and bangs, decorated with feathers and golden ribbons. But the rest of her outfit was even more perplexing: her arms and legs were shielded by metal, traditional plate armor, painted white and decorated with black areas adorned by golden spots. Her sleeves were long and flowing, but they did not obscure her gloved hands, which wielded a katana with a black and red haft, decorated by an ornamental crimson tassel, sheathed in a scabbard that was done up to look like a tanuki's tail.

But what threatened to shove Yen's eyebrow clear into her hairline was the rest of her outfit… or, rather, the lack thereof. Tiny armored plates hung down from her collar, only barely obscuring her chest, and what Yen could have sworn was a crimson bikini bottom preserved what would have been a serious breach in dignity. Yen could no longer contain her bewilderment.

"Who… are you supposed to be?!"

"I am am your Saber-class Servant, Minamoto no Yoshitsune! I have been called upon. Honoring my devotion as a Samurai to the fullest, I will do my best for you, Master!"

Yen's mouth fell open slightly. 

"No… way."

 **I'm not allowed to say who Yen is...I was told not to so I'm not gonna spoil it. We're using Servants from Fate that are given, such as Jeanne, Ushi and our Berserker, but also those who weren't, such as Ben-Hur. Next we go back to Jeanne and Tori...and see what mischief those two are going to end up in.**

 **Anyway, hope you liked it. If you did, please let me know!**

 **Qui vállë tóquetë, ván tecë (If no review comes from y'all; no story comes from me)**

 **Máriessë ar mára tecië**

 **Farewell and fair writing**

 **Elhini Prime signing off.**


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